


Feeding Your God

by straydog733



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Food Issues, Inspired by the comic Chew, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 10:20:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18809200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/straydog733/pseuds/straydog733
Summary: Each bit of bread, every speck of sauce or crumb or sip of coffee had infinite stories tied up in its creation and its journey to this table.Lunch becomes a lot more difficult as The Archivist.





	Feeding Your God

**Author's Note:**

> Minific from the prompt:   
> thisisthenightmarescenario asked: The first time Jon does a “monster” thing that genuinely frightens him (or Martin bc why not)

Jon froze, lips carefully closed but jaw open; Martin could tell that the bite of his sandwich was sitting on his tongue.

“Oh no, is something wrong with it?” Martin had tried a new cafe for lunch, and while his turkey tasted fine, maybe their ham was off? He tried to think if the bread had looked strange when he had pulled it out of the bag. Lunch dates in the cafeteria were still a bit of a tenuous arrangement, he didn’t need them disrupted by rotten lunch meat.

“Nuh, nuh, it’s-” Jon tried valiantly to chew for a few moments, then gave up and grabbed a napkin. His eyes were downcast and he looked somehow embarrassed. Martin pushed the other half of his meal across the table.

“Here, take half of mine and we know not to go back there again.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the sandwich.” Jon still wasn’t making eye contact, and a furrow was creased between his brows.

“Then what…”

“I…I started to Know. The sandwich.” He finally glanced up to meet Martin’s confused expression. “…The woman who put it together is named Laurelai and her brother is in the hospital. The mustard has been in the cafe’s refrigerator for thirteen days.The…pig that this ham is from suffered. A lot. The- the bolt, the stunner, it missed and only got her partially in the head…” He trailed off, looking into the middle distance. Or into the past, into a slaughterhouse. Martin blinked down at his own food.

“Um…I mean, I could maybe get you a vegetable sandwich?”

“The lettuce variety is called Carmona, this plant was treated with pesticides, and the man who picked it is in a lengthy court battle to get his daughter back.”

They sat in uncomfortable silence, both looking at their respective meals. Each bit of bread, every speck of sauce or crumb or sip of coffee had infinite stories tied up in its creation and its journey to this table.

“Jon, you have to eat something,” Martin said softly after a while.

“I mean, I might not have to.” He shrugged when Martin looked at him curiously. “My heart didn’t have to beat for six months, who knows what my stomach is-”

“Jon.”

“No, I know. Well…” Jon carefully picked up his sandwich. He started to tug at the piece of ham, pull it out from between the bread, then stopped. He shrugged again. “Feeding my god, I suppose.”

He took another bite.


End file.
